


Madman's War

by insert_cliche



Category: Bleach
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, spoilers for Bleach 532
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insert_cliche/pseuds/insert_cliche
Summary: The blood is their lullaby, and they're not letting go.





	Madman's War

**Author's Note:**

> First posted to ff.net in 2013.

He knows about her. Really, who doesn't?

She's a lady, a legend, a monster. He's heard the stories - she massacred one of the biggest districts of the Rukongai using only a broken tantō, turned multiple villages into bloody ghost towns in less than an hour. She can kill a man using his own sword against him, and knows exactly where to stab a man - or woman, for that matter - to make it _hurt_. She's a bloody wraith, and the moment you see her, you're dead.

Which means that he's going to die soon, because Unohana Yachiru, the Bloody Princess (he heard the nickname in some shabby bar that he can't remember anymore) of the Spirit World, is standing in front of him, with a katana in her hand and a smile on her lips.

He doesn't know what led to this. One minute, he was wandering around, looking for some food to steal, and the next, a stranger had grabbed him by the hair, put a blade to his throat, and dragged him to an empty, grass-less fighting ground.

The stranger had released him (his scalp was on _fire_) and kicked him in the chest so hard that he had staggered back quite a bit until he had regained his footing. It was when he had finally straightened up, still wheezing, that he had realized who his attacker had been.

Which had led to his current predicament.

But he is no simple prey. He is Zaraki, a killer who's pulled off some of the most bloody killing sprees in history. Depending on where you go in Rukongai, _his _name (not hers) is the one to strike fear into everyone's hearts.

_Oh. That's probably the reason why he's here._

This is a challenge.

He growls lowly, and crouches into something that resembles a fighting stance, pulling out a stolen sword. Some small part of his head is still saying things like _no don't do this, you'll get killed, are you some kind of fucking madman? _But the adrenaline, the pure _need _for a fight, is singing through his veins, so much harder to ignore.

His resolve hardens when she smirks and lifts her blade higher.

She steps once. Twice. Th-

And flies at him, the battle cry in her throat echoing out in the empty ground.

Blood runs rivers in the dust.

* * *

They travel as partners for a few weeks. It's not out of need or necessity or some other _feelings _bullshit. They travel together because they can _literally _\- for real, it's not a dream anymore - bathe their world in blood. They are constantly colored in hues of brown and red, and when they fight, Kenpachi thinks it's the best he's ever felt.

She doesn't say anything, but he knows she thinks this too. Great minds think alike, after all, and they're the only people in this huge world that can come close to understanding each other.

He finds out that she likes to hum while killing, and that it's always a lullaby on her (red, red) lips.

* * *

She kisses him after their fourth week together.

It's not love ("Hell no! Why the fuck would you think that!" is what he would splutter, if asked) - far from. It is just some sort of mutual understanding (because they are murderers and unrepentant and freaking _dance _in the blood) that leads her to grab him by the hair during another round of killing and seal her mouth firmly onto his.

He is frozen for half a second, then responds. He is still a man, and she is still a woman. Their mouths move in tandem, and their heartbeats do too: she can feel the steady _thump, thump _under the palm of her hand, and it matches her own perfectly.

She ignores the fact that one of them could kill the other in a third heartbeat.

They don't know how long the kiss lasts (who cares?), but when they separate, she smiles and he grins, and they go back to the killing.

* * *

She doesn't remember why they separate, or what started their last fight. It was centuries ago, and really, the only thing she needs to remember is that he gave her a scar (she gave him a bigger one in return) and that it still hurts.

One would think that, after so many decades as the head of the _healing _division, she would be able to fix herself with all of the new powers and spells that she's learned. But she doesn't for the simple reason that she wants to keep a reminder of her (bloodstained) past with her.

This is the only thing she has.

* * *

They meet again when he becomes captain of the Eleventh.

(The irony doesn't escape her.)

There's a little pink-haired girl on his shoulder, and she wonders briefly about how and why Zaraki decided to take the brat along with him. But she doesn't wonder long, because the girl is only a washed-out imitation of them, higher-pitched and happier.

She doesn't have the same bloodthirst that _real _killers have, and won't ever be able to understand.

Later, when she finds out about how she is the little girl's namesake, she smiles, thinks that it was a nice sentiment, and hopes with all her (bloody dark) soul that he isn't getting soft.

* * *

When he meets the rest of the Gotei Thirteen for the first time, his only thought is that they look like a bunch of sissies. The old man looks like some elderly guy who should be in a rocking chair. There's a blonde (man?) with long hair and a creepy-ass smile. Some weirdo in a hat, a purple-haired girl, a white-haired guy hacking his lungs out and-

Kenpachi sees the blood splatter everywhere. Suddenly, he'd like nothing better than to unsheathe his sword (still the same stolen katana) and test out the capabilities of his "peers."

The blood is wiped away quickly, and Kenpachi looks at the hand - so familiar...who is it? His eyes travel up, and...

...he finds himself staring at Unohana Yachiru.

_Déjà vu, anyone?_

She smiles, still the same smile that makes him want to _do _things with her - kiss her, fight her, kill her. (It doesn't make a difference in the very end.) She's just as powerful as she used to be, if not more.

He stares, and she stares back. Those around them can almost _see _the power traveling between their locked eyes.

The old man (screw the titles of Captain-Commander and all that other crap - he's a fucking_ old man_!) clears his throat.

"Might I introduce Unohana Retsu, captain of the Fourth?" A dry cough, and he continues.

"You'll probably be seeing her quite often. She's the head of the Healing division."

Wait...stop. Rewind.

_"Healing division..."_

He stares once more, and she continues smiling.

* * *

His first real checkup is...memorable.

She pushes him into her office, smiling, and shuts the door. He grabs her by the arm as she walks towards her desk.

"What the _hell _is this?!"

She almost-not-quite glares at him, and he remembers that they're aren't alone anymore, and that they can't kill any potential eavesdroppers without getting into trouble.

"I am Unohana _Retsu_, Captain of the Fourth Division. It's very nice to meet you." She puts particular emphasis on her name, and he finally figures out that her real name must be a secret.

Her eyes tell a different story.

_I'm here, I haven't stopped fighting, don't get cocky, I miss the old days, I miss-_

"You have blood on your face," she says, and reaches up to wipe it off. Her hand touches his scar, and a twinge of pain reminds him of everything they had together.

_Blood, killing, death..._

_I missed you_, her eyes say.

He leans down to kiss her.

* * *

Decades pass, centuries pass, and they settle into something of a routine.

He is the loudmouthed, completely powerful captain of the Fighting Division, who has no sense of direction and has to be led by a little girl who's even worse than he. She is the quiet, but much-respected head of the Healing Division, with a smile that can send even the mad scientist captain of the Twelfth Division running away in fear. When they are injured, his subordinates go to her subordinates to get treated. When he is injured, he goes to her to get treated.

Sometimes, they sneak away for a night, under different pretenses.

_"Oh, I'm going to gather some herbs from the mountain."_

_"The hell d'ya wanna know? Can't a captain go kill some fucking Hollows in peace?"_

They fight, they kiss, but they don't kill. Because Captains shouldn't kill for the sake of killing, unless they're killing Hollows. No massacres.

But they haven't truly fought in ages, and haven't truly killed for even longer. Her job as a healer bars her from the battlefield. His place at the Eleventh makes him untouchable. They would never be allowed against each other, no matter how good she is at fighting and how much the old man knows it.

No one asks when she comes back with an empty basket.

No one asks when he comes back without blood on his hands.

* * *

The war comes.

He fights like a madman once again, taking his wrath out on Hollows and Arrancar and Quincies. It's red and bloody and wonderful and...suddenly, he realizes (while he slashes through yet another enemy) that he's the slightest bit lonely. It would be nice to have someone by his side, to revel in the blood like he does.

Why can't she come?

She's rushing around the medical tents day and night, saving some, choosing to let others die in peace. There's blood here, all shades of red and brown, but not the kind that she wants. She wants fresh vibrant red to arc in the air, splatter on her face like rain. Stain her robes until there is nothing white or pure on her anymore.

She's lonely, even with so many loving people around her (do they know that they're loving a killer?). The loneliness is killing her.

They are granted a small reprieve from the war - time to mourn the dead and fix the most important things before Seireitei is attacked again (She approves of the new captain-commander, because she knows that he's pretty twisted inside, too. Zaraki couldn't care less.) - when an order comes down.

_Teach Zaraki Kenpachi the art of killing._

Evidently, life loves irony.

* * *

The two of them are on a battlefield again.

He moves in, catches a quick kiss. She holds onto him for a second longer before allowing him to leave.

(Their hearts still beat in tandem.)

Now, _bloodlust _is taking over, the first time in a thousand years.

She starts humming a lullaby. It's the only song that she remembers from when she was alone.

They back up, circle each other...

...and _fly_.


End file.
